


Dumbledore's Birds

by earthphoenix (roughknuckles)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birds, Crows, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Phoenixes, Reflection, hawks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-29
Updated: 2009-08-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughknuckles/pseuds/earthphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Implied Albus/Gellert. Albus reflects upon the different sorts of birds he has encountered in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dumbledore's Birds

Albus Dumbledore had been an avid birdwatcher from the time he was born.

In his youth, before going to school, young Albus was fascinated with the ways of the noble hawks that circled the fields around their house. When his stern father readied himself and departed for work, the hawks would rise as well, keeping an impeccable eye on every inch of their property. They were, he decided, both regal and intimidating, not the sort of bird who would come light on his windowsill to keep the bookish boy company at all. Nonetheless, he tried, using every trick he could think of to charm a hawk into landing on his forearm. But as his father said one evening, "Hawks are not gentle creatures, Albus, nor are they pets. You would do well to respect the damage it can do when provoked."

The next day Arianna was attacked, and the hawks stopped circling.

The only bird that could capture Albus's imagination afterwards was a phoenix itself, golden and immortal, so unlike the dull swallows that followed him around in the school yard. He'd only caught glimpses of the rare, fiery bird over his years at Hogwart's and then his mother had died, and he was bound to a house he hated.

One morning, in the late, sultry afternoon while Albus scourgified a muddy mess Arianna had made of the vegetable garden in the small backyard, one of them landed just in front of Albus and stared at him with merry, glittering eyes. The young man stared back, stunned into speechlessness at the canny look the beautiful bird had while they locked gazes and circled one another in the dull garden.

"Hello there ..." Albus managed. The bird sang back, almost mockingly before it winked and flew off, over the roof of his modest house in a flourish of bronze and gold.

Then the doorbell rang and Bathtilda's voice could be heard even in the backyard.

"Yoo-hoo, Albus. I know you're in there, my dear! Please answer ... I've someone who'd like to meet you!"

Three months later, Albus wished he had paid more attention to the annoying little sparrows after all.

And finally, in the twilight of his age, at the height of his wisdom, Albus Dumbledore developed a fascination with the crows that seemed to thrive around Hagrid's hut. The reviled birds, pitch black from head to clawed toes, scavenged, taking whatever meagre scraps they could find and gulping them down quickly. The crows paid no mind to the great Albus Dumbledore, it seemed that they didn't read the newspapers, or keep track of the many awards heaped upon the now legendary wizard. But every night, come summer, winter, spring or fall, one of them (a scrawny, bright young fellow) would hop over and sit next to Albus on a fallen log, sharing crumbs of shortbread cookies with him, pecking at his robes when the wizard wasn't quite forthcoming enough. 

Severus Snape was in the infirmary, finally, thankfully asleep after his run in with Mr. Lupin in the shrieking shack. The tough, thin young man would recover completely, at least physically and Albus had promised he would sit with him all night, which seemed to calm the Slytherin enough to close his eyes. Dumbledore could tell from the even rise and fall of his thin chest that Snape was sleeping and set his shortbread cookies aside so he could reach out and stroke the black tendrils of Severus's hair, watching the many shades of ebony under the low candlelight.

"What beautiful feathers ..." he murmured with a smile, knowing this would be the last bird he'd long to watch.

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for thestralskinphoenixtears


End file.
